


All On The Leather

by fuckyeahlucifersupernatural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Car Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 20:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1523795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After hunts and bloodied missions, they find each other all on the leather of the Impala.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All On The Leather

**Author's Note:**

  * For [i-see-light](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=i-see-light).



> A belated birthday gift to my darling friend, Brittany (i-see-light).
> 
> **Disclaimer:** This is fan-run and this writer is not officially affiliated with the CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., and other official affiliates tied to the TV Show "Supernatural." This user does not claim ownership to the official content of Supernatural and does not seek profit off of the work produced presently. Plagiarism of this current story will not be tolerated and will be reported following AO3's terms of services. The stories, additional characters I create, are mine. This story was not created for profit. Making profit is deemed copyright infringement unless sanctioned by copyright holders (i.e. CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., etc.). Copyright infringement can range from paying a fine to actual jail time. Please do not claim this story as yours! Please do not sell this story! Please do not reproduce this story! All violators will be reported and dealt with severely! 

Lucifer is whole and warm around the corners of his being now that his Grace has been siphoned off. As Heaven waxes and wanes, Lucifer’s angelic heritage is reduced to a muted flow of energy. There are only a few moments when he sees primordial energy and sparks of Creation dancing behind the blond’s eyes. He saw it today in a hunt, Sam down for the count and about to become Wendigo chum if it wasn’t for Lucifer’s intervention. A halo of golden ice sitting on his head, liquified sunshine frozen in bubbles and curls of color, the world briefly plunged into an apocalyptic winter. Blood and flesh dances and careens in the air, the creature dead before a shriek could push out of its throat. Shredded bits and blasted blood hits the floor with heavy, audible thuds. 

It always makes Sam’s breath catch in his throat, to watch Lucifer turn to him with such concern as his body is pumping with adrenaline and residual Grace. This sentient and dangerous creature who has continuously shaken the earth only sees him. It feels more like a religious experience when he has the Morning Star to himself, in these moments of solitude after hunts. For even though Heaven has rebuked the Devil, Lucifer tastes of his Father’s Creation. He tastes of cedar and pine. Of cold winter mornings. He tastes like a budding secret hidden under packed snow. Even his sweat is sweet on his tongue, sucking on the archangel’s neck until he leaves his own purple mark across the bruises of today. Heady and aromatic to his senses, he licks this hunt’s communion off of Lucifer’s skin. 

The Impala is confined and stuffy, Lucifer never having grown fully comfortable in vehicles. The world is too shoved in around his knees but only in these moments is he satisfied with its suffocating state. Sam’s body smothers the space in the Impala, the soundtrack of sweaty skin dragging across leather always driving innocent flushes of red and pink across Sam’s chest and neck. They undress each other, leaning against each other’s frames to push off their jeans and underwear. Lucifer prefers watching Sam undress outside of the car, the backdrop of the primordial world against Sam’s flesh that is busied with cuts, bruises and the markings of gurgled out blood. There’s something open about the experience that Sam can’t quite name, feeling the autumn air chill the sweat on his skin. 

In here they sweat. They build their heat. In the safety of the Impala and the untampered world around them, they dig deeper into each other. Sam digs his fingers into Lucifer’s shoulders until his upper lip curls, the whiteness of his teeth exposed. Lucifer digs his fingers into the soft flesh of Sam’s backside, bruises and remnants of his fingerprints already present. Sam makes soft sounds, mixtures of whines and gasps as tender flesh is pressed. They lick the blood sitting in the inside of their mouths, Sam’s mouth saturated in his own blood from a back molar knocked loose and accidentally biting into his own tongue. It’s sucked into his gums but Lucifer is thorough, letting his tongue run across the roof of Sam’s mouth that has him fidgeting and writhing at the sensation. They breathe each other in, saying each other’s names like prayers and omens, Sam bent low as he sits himself on Lucifer’s lap. The Impala forces his back to bend and their mouths slot perfectly against each other, tasting and feeling the roughness of their split lips. 

Sam drops his hand to their cocks, grazing each other through the shifting of their frames. Calloused hand holds them in a loose grip, giving an equally loose sound a he begins to rock his hips. Lucifer gives an entrapped groan, blue eyes half-lidded and eyeing Sam with a growing hunger. Sam’s too busy admiring their entrapped cocks, watching them bead with precum and taking a bit too much relish that he’s leaking far more freely than Lucifer. The sight always makes his body shudder and tremble with its carnality.

The archangel rummages for something from Sam’s backpack shoved behind the passenger seat, Sam forced to follow the direction of the blond. The brunette busies himself nipping at Lucifer’s neck and jawline, perhaps cruelly pressing the flat of his tongue against a cut on his cheek. With the hand still settled on his backside, he earns fingers pinching the soft flesh in protest, a ragged chuckle leaving Sam. When Lucifer sits back straight, his hands move behind Sam and it doesn’t take long before fingers are cold and slick. The hunter only pushes back at the prodding digits, greedy and eager in the heat of the car. 

“Good?” Lucifer asks somewhere against his neck when he finally slips a finger in, feeling muscles clench briefly around the digit before relaxing. Sam nods, breathing deeply through his mouth as he feels Lucifer slowly work in a second finger. Despite how eager he may be, Lucifer always takes his time in working him open. Lucifer argues it’s because he wants each moment to be perfect. Perfect was the back of the Impala, stench of blood and sweat in the air, warm leather underneath them, chest-to-chest and Lucifer pushing his cock into Sam with ease. Sam’s left with fingers curling and twisting inside of him, teasing and brushing against his prostate until all he can do is grip onto the back of the seat. Fingers part away briefly onto to return slicked and cool once more, each push of the fingers making Sam only feel soppy and wet. It makes him groan, initiating the feeling of finished bliss and dripping Lucifer from a swollen, worked ring of pink flesh. Sam rocks a bit feverishly into Lucifer, feeling that familiar burn of recklessness and heat that makes it hard to see straight.

Sam fucked as if he was starving. Pulling hair. Gnashing his teeth and leaving marks as if he may never get the opportunity to feel the weight of another soon. Lucifer is present. Whole. The archangel is always close and slowly he has learned to take sex slower. To allow himself to be pampered by his partner and Lucifer spoils him. It only makes the moment sweeter, already drawing breathy sounds in anticipation when Lucifer can fit three fingers in with ease. 

Sam lifts his body up, frame pushed further forward until Lucifer’s mouth is on his collarbone, as the archangel adjusts himself. A hand guides him down by the hips, feeling the pleasant push of Lucifer’s cock. Sam keens when he’s settled down fully onto Lucifer’s lap, experimentally rolling his hips before lifting himself back up. They settle into an easy rhythm, Sam moving his fingers to dig into Lucifer’s scalp as the blond sloppily kisses his chest. Lucifer breathes to him words of praise into his hot flesh with reverence. Sam feels like a god being kissed and worshiped upon this altar of reinforced steel and leather.

Sam gives a playful grin, boyish and wide, when he lifts his body up too high. The archangel immediately huffs, forced to work harder to thrust into the Winchester, thrusts becoming shallow and quick. Fingers claw and scratch at his backside, leaving streaks of red as the blond pulls him further apart. Sam only gives another laugh, bright with the warmth settled on his cheekbones.

Lucifer moves his head, parting his mouth beckoningly until Sam’s mouth meets his in a kiss. Teeth are quick to move and may the Winchester back by bitting into his healing bottom lip. A hiss fills the Impala and Sam’s lip bleeds sluggishly once more. His bottom lip looks painted in red and swollen, blood dripping down to his chin before Sam returns the favor. It’s a game of lips being torn, laughter and groans spilled into one as their pace pick up. Each kiss tingles with pinpricks of pain, smearing red across their mouths as the Impala soon becomes sweltering with their body heat. 

The hunter always thought Lucifer looked beautiful with split lips against his lighter skin and pale blue eyes. He looks feral and regal all in one, panting in the heat as his hands are settled permanently on his hips. With a huffed sound, he pushes his weight forward until Sam is forced onto his back in the Impala. The back seat of the Impala is wet with sweat and it takes maneuvering Sam’s legs over Lucifer’s shoulders until both are comfortable. It’s instant relief onto Sam’s back, Lucifer adjusting himself before pushing back in. Sam nearly melts in the seat, crying out in bliss when the archangel rocks into his prostate. The air tastes of them, Sam heaving it in as he cries and begs for Lucifer to just fuck him a bit harder. A bit faster. A bit rougher. It isn’t long until Sam is gasping and giving a choked moan when he comes, streaking his left hipbone and his lower abdomen with cum. 

Lucifer still covers his eyes as if Grace may shine through when he hits his peak, hips trembling and spilling into the Winchester. At that moment all Sam can hear is the ragged and rough sound of Lucifer sucking in air and groaning in release. It’s melodic and sweet, Lucifer bottoming out and letting one of Sam’s legs slide off his shoulders. Sinking into Sam, sweaty chests sliding against each other, they eagerly push one of the doors open for air. The outside air cools their heated bodies off, limbs soon lazily hanging out, the archangel still pushed inside of Sam. They lay on top of the other, Sam moving a hand to idly scratch at Lucifer’s back as the world continues on around them.

It doesn’t take too long for Sam to make soft little whimpers, arousal already curling deep in his belly as Lucifer begins to slowly push his hips further forward.

**Author's Note:**

> _Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review!_


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